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Al-Ahram Weekly 25 February - 3 March 1999 Issue No. 418 
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Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Al-Ahram Weekly 25 February - 3 March 1999 Issue No. 418
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| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Egypt Region International Economy Opinion Culture Features Travel Living Sports People Time Out Chronicles Cartoons Letters There is only one child
By Injy El-Kashef
Most Egyptians instantly recognise Auntie Lulu, presenter of the successful radio programme The Children's Corner, as the veteran movie star Lubna Abdel-Aziz. Now, Abdel-Aziz is combining her two roles in cinema and children's entertainment by sitting on the awards jury for the Ninth International Festival for Children's Films (1-9 March 1999).
Her definition of a film for children is quite liberal; it includes "anything that appeals to a child, that triggers his imagination or entertains him; anything the child would come away from with a little something that can be used, can be worthwhile, that can bring a smile to his lips, can set the process of thinking going; something that is not easily forgotten; a story that he can relate to; something that can open the windows of the world to him."
Abdel-Aziz points out that the fairy tales that have been written in every language -- which vary from the violent stories of the brothers Grimm, to Hans Christian Anderson's sweet tales and Saint-Exupéry's The Little Prince -- demonstrate that there are hundreds of subjects that can appeal to a child. "I think in the whole world there is one child", she said, explaining that people develop their differences after the first few years of life. "We later become Asian or African, or Maltese, but a child is a child is a child -- anywhere". Being involved in making films for children must be, in her view, extremely rewarding, as anything can be done, any message delivered, in so vast a field.
As to whether children's films should concentrate on delivering a message or on acquainting the child with an art form, Abdel-Aziz explained that a perfect film should be able to draw on both form and content. She stressed, however, that the more subtle the message, the more profound it is, and the more lasting the impression it leaves. "Why not have both a message and a beautiful means of introducing it to the child? Children buy books for the pictures, illustrations and paintings. Even if the story is silly, the child is still drawn to the pictures, because they trigger his imagination."
In Fantasia, although the film depended on the music and the scenery, there was still a message, she says: "The appreciation of beauty, of music, of colours and of nature is a message. It's: Stop and smell the rose. But I don't believe in a strict, severe, message."
The Parent Trap, opening filmLubna Abdel-Aziz's criteria for judging a children's film are based on how moved she is at the end of the screening, since "children's feelings are their most developed senses"; if the film moves her to laugh or cry, sympathise or empathise, then, she believes, it has achieved its purpose. Children, she thinks, can and should have an opinion about the films in the festival. Perhaps, she suggests, it would be possible to introduce a child as a member of the jury board.
Yet it does not seem likely we will see this innovation any time soon. To her dismay, Abdel-Aziz has to admit that the general attitude towards children -- at least in Egypt -- seems to envisage them as "only children". Surely that is the fastest way to lower their standards? Adults, she complains, tend to lower themselves to the child's level, which arrests the process of maturation. "If you raise the child's level to yours, the child will want to prove to you that he is capable, that your confidence in him is justified, and he will work harder to climb that ladder to get to you. Children are like a muscle: if you use it, it grows and if you don't, it weakens," she explains. As Auntie Lulu, she has never talked down to children, but instead always treated them as equals. To look down at a child is the worst form of insult.
Educators today bear a heavier burden than they used to, because they are battling against many forces -- such as the media saturation of children's experience -- which aim to defeat their purpose. Makers of children's films have thus to be aware of a dual responsibility, she says: "Not only do they have a message, or a feeling to touch, but they also have to go out there, like Don Quixote, and do battle with all these ghosts." Undoubtedly, she adds, this process may confuse the child; "There is a vacillation between two extremes, like a pendulum. But I have a feeling that, in the future, it will settle somewhere in the middle." In spite of everything, she believes that it is only the written and the spoken word that can truly reach the child's imagination.
Lubna Abdel-Aziz refers to the advanced mass media technology emanating from the west as a "tidal wave" that is sweeping along adults and children alike. The Arab world should take advantage of this situation to introduce its culture to children around the world: "It doesn't matter what costume we're wearing. The message is one, the language is universal." It is her belief that if the children of this global village have a chance to interact, to communicate and to understand one another, "we've got it made for the 21st century."
Technical expertise in children's films should not interfere in this process of exchange: "We think, we have feelings, and we express them," she says. Abdel-Aziz's view is that some Egyptian films may need much improvement, but many are, ultimately, not bad at all. "We are making strides in the right direction, and the only way to improve is by exposing ourselves. But our first step is to make [the rest of the world] feel what we feel."
Hosting an international children's film festival, now in its ninth year, is in itself "daring and noble", especially as those working in the medium may not find it financially very rewarding, and may even encounter significant obstacles to their projects, she states. "And yet they want to do it. I think it's admirable and I personally encourage them." Abdel-Aziz has great hopes that the local entries may carry off a few prizes, as she finds the films commendable. In her view, Egyptians are very critical of themselves -- which she describes as a good thing -- but "we are not way down on the totem pole, we're somewhere in the middle and looking up. I'm very optimistic."
The only difference Abdel-Aziz finds between Egypt's festival for children's films and those organised abroad is the amount of money other countries can afford to spend on their events. The aim of the festival organisation this year is to donate all the funds to handicapped children, "and I hope that everybody will participate, because it's such a great cause," she says.
The timing of the festival was decided after much deliberation and "seems to have settled right." According to the organisers, holding the festival to coincide with the children's mid-year recess had proved a failure, since many children were out of town. This year, however, the schools themselves are involved in sending the children by bus to the cinemas, while the cinemas, in their turn, will send the films to the schools.
Lubna Abdel-Aziz is delighted to be part of this year's festival. Having resumed her radio programme after a 30-year absence, she realises that very little has changed: "Basically, children will always be very much the same in their innocence and purity, which reminds me of a poem by Longfellow:
'Come away a human child
To the waters and the wild
With the fairy hand in hand
For the world's more filled
With evils than you can understand.'"
